Ghosts of Our Pasts
by MonsterSlut
Summary: It starts with a blogger, a hell of a lot of questions and an ex-Navy Seal with PTSD ending in something so much bigger than either of them could have ever expected. When Bekka James stalks her way into his life, Luke Morrison finds his life changed forever and not necessarily for the better. National City needs to be protected and Supergirl may not be able to handle it alone.
1. Chapter 1

**++++++ Hello everyone, me again, MonsterSlut.**

 **New fic here, so sue me.**

 **I've co-written this Supergirl fic with the amazingly talented Stormrunner74 whose complex characters I utterly enjoy getting to know.**

 **Pop on over and read Learning to Fly-it's brilliant. You can go to my favorites or Stormrunner's page or look it up via the Story ID which is 11824114.**

 **So, bigger description that what is available** **in the teeny, tiny space they provide:**

 **What starts with a blogger, a hell of a lot of questions and an ex-Navy Seal with PTSD ends in something so much bigger than either of them could have ever expected. When conspiracy blogger Bekka James forces her way into his life, Luke Morrison finds his life unwillingly changed forever-and not in a good way. National City needs to be protected, the prisoners of Krypton's Fort Rozz are free and wreaking havoc, Supergirl may not be able to handle it alone.**

 **Pairings:**

 **OCxAlex Danvers**

 **OCxAdam Foster**

 **I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it.**

 **I do not own ++++++**

 **Chapter One**

What does a monster look like through the eyes of an eight-year-old girl?

Does it spew fire? Does it have horns? Does it live in the shadows of the closet in her room and only come out at night? Does it have eight legs? Eight hairy, scary legs to steal you away with in the middle of the night?

No.

That's not what a monster looks like through the eyes of an eight-year-old girl.

There was a time where monsters simply lived in the ages of books and in the minds of children, there, they spelled an imaginary danger that was quickly washed away with a tender hug, a loving kiss, or even a funny voice.

That's what she loved about them...her parents, that is. No matter how scared she was, no matter how afraid she became, Rebekah James always had her parents there to keep her safe from the frightful world.

Of course it doesn't help when the mind of said eight-year-old is constantly absorbed in pages containing certain horror and monsters within.

"Leroy Anthony James!" came the shrill shriek of her mother, Edith. "You're supposed to be reading her a bedtime story!"

Both Leroy and Bekka jumped where they sat. Grinning sheepishly, Leroy turned to his wife. "Oh fair, noble maiden-our beloved princess hummingbird picked this tale of dreadful fright this night."

Bekka collapsed in a fit of giggles; she adored it when her father spoke like that-something which he did more often than not just to see her smile.

Edith, a smirk on her face, rolled her eyes. "Drop the bullshit, Leroy. Put the girl to bed."

"I'm not a girl!" Bekka argued.

Edith walked into her room and took the book from her husband's hands, placing it back on the shelf. "If you're not a girl, what are you?" she asked, grinning.

"I'm a hummingbird!" she grinned.

Edith leant down and kissed her on the head. "Go to sleep, my darling angel. You've a big day tomorrow."

Bekka practically let her bed absorb her like a big, fluffy marshmallow. Sure she wished that she was at home in her own princess bed but being at grandma and grandpa's farm was just as good considering she had her own horse here and there were lots of hummingbirds in the orchids. "Do we have to go tomorrow?"

"Hummingbird," Leroy smiled, taking a seat on the bed beside her. "You're going to be fine. It's just an advancement and IQ test. We need to see how smart you really are."

"Alanna doesn't think I'm smart," she pouted. "She's always calling me dumb," Bekka complained, putting extra emphasis on the word always.

Edith got to her feet and pulled the covers up underneath her chin. "I wish you two would stop fighting. You're sisters, act like it."

Leroy kissed her on the head and winked. "Goodnight, fair maiden, princess of hummingbirds. I love you. Always and forever."

Bekka giggled. "Always and forever daddy."

He got to the door, closing it after he turned the light off.

 **-XXX-**

An ear piercing scream tore through the crisp night air.

She flung herself out of her bed and scrambled underneath it, just like they'd taught her. Her small ears couldn't pinpoint where the sound had come from but the scream was all so familiar to her. She heard it several times on their last summer vacation to Disneyland.

But this was filled with far too much fear for Bekka to be able to contemplate. It wasn't the fear of the rush from a rollercoaster but raw, pure fear. The kind that came from being scared out of your mind.

Minutes past but to Bekka it seemed like hours before she crawled out from underneath the bed. She could hear the soft thud of feet outside the bedroom, no matter the surface Bekka could always recognise the footsteps of her sister. She waited for Alanna to come into her room but she never came. Bekka didn't know it than, but it would be the first in a long list of failures from someone who was supposed to love her.

Another scream tore through the air but instead of being simply nothing they formed a name. Two names.

 _"BEKKA! ALANNA! RUN!"_

She scrambled out of the bedroom and ran through the house, tears forming in her eyes as strangled sobs were stuck in the back of her throat. "MUMMY!" Bekka screamed. She burst out through the back door by the kitchen, in the distance she could see two figures, one on the ground, unmoving, the other standing above her like a predator claiming its prize.

"Mummy?" Bekka gasped, dropping her stuffed rabbit in a puddle on the ground. "MUMMY!" she screamed. As fast as her little feet could carry her, Bekka ran towards her mother and fell beside her body. She shook her, that familiar warmth of Edith James wasn't there anymore-it felt wrong as Bekka's skin touched hers.

She gazed up to the figure standing above them, it was a woman but all Bekka could see were those eyes. Those harsh, cold, unforgiving eyes.

"Bekka what did you do?" Alanna gasped. "I called the police!"

Bekka spun around to see her sister standing there with a phone in her hands. "Alanna she won't wake up!" she sobbed. "Mummy! Mummy wake up!" she sobbed, trying to wake her mother up. "Alanna, she won't wake up!"

"And neither will you both."

"Don't you touch my daughters you bitch!" Leroy hissed suddenly.

The woman turned just in time for Leroy to swing a shovel at her face.

She glared at him, the metal of the shovel all bent out of shape. There was not even a bruise or a scratch on her perfect face.

"Daddy!" Alanna screamed, dropping the phone.

Their father stood there bloodied and bruised, he was clutching his side and wincing as if he was in pain. "Nobody touches my girls and gets away with it," Leroy hissed, seemingly not bothered by the fact there wasn't a scratch on her.

A smirk appeared on her face before she stepped forward and grabbed him. "Such fragile, fragile bodies," she answered, her voice laced with venom and ice. She put pressure on his shoulders and in one swift motion, she pulled him in both directions.

Bekka screamed bloody murder.

 _Thud!_

Beside her, Alanna's body hit the dirt footpath, her chest rising and falling in a soft faint…

Bekka fell sideways on the ground beside the body of her mother, she took those cooling arms and wrapped them around her because mother's arms were the safest arms there were.

In the corner of her eyes she could see the woman stepped over the two halves of Leroy James and disappeared into the rolling fog.

 **-XXX-**

Dorothy 'Dot' Carter pulled in the long driveway of the Carter Orchid Farm to be welcomed by a mass of emergency service vehicles. She slammed her foot on the break and immediately got out of the car to seek out the first person she could grab. "Where's my daughter?" she frantically asked a policeman.

The policeman opened his mouth with every intention of saying something to her only he was cut off by a man wearing a suit.

"Mrs Carter?" he questioned, looking in his notebook. "I'm Detective Elias Wood from National City PD."

Dot looked beyond the detective in front of her and gasped when she saw the white sheets covering two separate bodies. She gasped when she saw Bekka and Alanna with a woman in a sharp-looking suit. "Bekka!" Dot gasped. "Lani?"

"GRAMS!" Bekka screamed. She struggled out of the arms of the social services caseworker and ran towards her grams.

Dot was only coming home to rest whilst her husband recovered from a 16-hour long heart surgery but now...now she wasn't sure what was happening. She grabbed Bekka up and hugged her closely as she cried. "What happened, hummingbird?" Dot asked.

"I SAW HER" Bekka screamed, tears rolling down her face. "She did it! She killed them! She killed my mummy and daddy! Alanna tell them!" she all but begged. "Tell them!"

Dot hugged her granddaughter close, her eyes on Alanna as she sat in the back of an ambulance wrapped in a blanket clutching a cup of hot tea. "Lani?"

It took a moment but Alanna looked up at her grandmother. "Grams?"

"Lani, tell the detective what you saw," Dot whispered, trying to smile and seem strong but inside she was falling apart. Edith was her only child!

Alanna looked at Bekka whose blue eyes were red from crying so much and she gulped. "I-I didn't see anything. Bekka's lying. I didn't see anything."

"You're lying!" the girl sobbed. She buried her head in her grams shoulder and screamed as loud as she could, her shoulders heaving up and down. Bekka was sure, she was absolutely one hundred percent positive that a monster had killed her parents. A monster with a human face.

It wouldn't be until much later on that she realised that the monsters on the outside aren't the worst. The worst are the ones that live inside, because no matter where you run, they follow.

 ** _Somewhere in the deserts of Afghanistan…_**

Three men and a woman crouched behind a rusty truck, monitoring a warehouse. A black haired man was in front, followed by an African American man, then a blond guy, with the woman taking up the rear. All four were dressed in body armour and all four were carrying M4 assault rifles with P226 handguns strapped to their sides. The woman and the black haired man had AW-50 sniper rifles on their backs, the African American man had a M32 grenade launcher slung over his back, and the blond guy had a M72 rocket launcher on his back. The woman switched her M4 for her sniper rifle and peered through the scope at the warehouse. The man with trimmed black hair and a goatee pulled out a satellite phone and reported in.

"Tower, this Castellan. We located Amir. We have confirmation that he has the chemical agent from Lord Technologies. We clear to proceed? Over," he said quietly. After a second, a voice came back through.

 _"Castellan, your team is clear to engage. Over."_

"Roger that, Tower," the man turned to rest of the team, "You heard him."

"Let's do this," the man with long blonde hair stated, grinning.

"You're nuts, man. You actually enjoy this mess?" the bald African American man questioned him with an arched eyebrow.

"Can it, ladies," the woman with brown hair in a tight bun said, grinning, "Time to go."

"You heard the woman, Matt," the blond guy said to the African American guy. Matt turned around and punched the blond guy's arm, hard.

"OW!" The blond guy yelled. Matt put a hand over his mouth.

"Shut up, Jacob. You talk too much," he grumbled at him. The black haired guy turned around.

"Are you two done?" he said, smirking.

"Luke, come on, he's blowing our cover, as we speak," Matt spoke up.

"He blew it. Two hostiles approaching," the woman spoke up, peering around the truck through her rifle scopes.

"Take the shot, Grace," Luke spoke up. _Fhwip. Fhwip._ Two silenced shots spat out of Grace's rifle. Two hostiles fell.

"Move," Luke ordered. The four team members walked around the truck and fell into formation as they approached the warehouse. As they approached, two more men stepped out of the building. Luke raised his M4 and let off a few shots. Both men slumped over. As they went, one pulled the trigger of his AK-47, and sent a spray of bullets into the dirt.

"If they didn't know we were here, they do now," Jacob remarked from the rear position.

"Shut up!" All three of his teammates hissed without looking back at him. From the warehouse, men started coming through the door, and all four raised their weapons in unison and fired. The first guy was blown back into the building and the second guy quickly followed.

The next three were more cautious and came out shooting. Matt shot the first in the chest and the shoulder and he collapsed. The second one managed to shoot Jacob through the arm, before Luke killed the second guy with a bullet through the heart. The third guy was finished off by a headshot from Grace.

Jacob shrugged off the scare of being shot and stood up.

"I'll be fine," he stated, glaring at Matt, daring him to speak up.

"What?"

"You know perfectly well what." The group continued towards the warehouse, which had fallen oddly silent.

As they stepped through the door, they covered all the angles, but nobody was in sight. All over the room were shipping containers not unlike semi-truck trailers. They formed a maze of sorts and there was only one way forward.

 _Through the inside of a container._

"Careful, watch your six," Luke warned as they approached. They entered single file, but as soon as Luke reached the front, the doors were slammed shut. He turned around to go out the other way, but those doors had been closed as well. A small hatch in the ceiling, about eight inches in diameter, was opened and a canister was tossed in. It landed at their feet and smoke started billowing out of it.

"Gas!" Luke yelled, "Cover your mouths!" All four covered their mouths but it was too late. The four of them started collapsing, one by one. The last thing Luke saw before his vision faded was the doors being opened and light pouring into the container.

 **-XXX-**

Luke woke up in a cell next to a sitting Grace. Matt and Jacob were missing.

"Hey," he groaned.

Grace jumped. "Hey. You okay?" She asked.

"No," he answered honestly, "Where's Matt and Jacob?" She looked up wearily.

"Matt got killed when they interrogated him. He wouldn't budge an inch. Jacob's out there now. When you fell, you hit your head pretty hard. We weren't sure when you would wake up," she said grimly. After a second she looked directly at him, before unclasping a necklace around her neck and handing it to Luke. It was her cross necklace, the last memento she had of her mother. Luke stared at her, shocked.

"I can't take this," he said, surprised.

"Luke, I'm next in interrogation. If something happens to me, hang on to it for me. It was mine, now it's yours," she said, forcefully.

He took it hesitantly, before he put it around his neck. "You'll have it back real soon," he promised. Suddenly the door on the other side of the room was thrown open, and Amir walked in followed by two soldiers. Amir was legendary to the US military. He was a terrorist who specialized in biological and chemical threats. Nobody even knew his full name. He was an average sized man, and he had an average Middle Eastern haircut. However, his eyes told a different story. Where most terrorists' eyes were manic and almost crazy looking, his were cold and calculating. After a second of contemplating the two people in the cell, he stepped aside and two soldiers stepped through the door after him, carrying Jacob's body. They tossed it unceremoniously in the corner, and left the room.

"Your friends wouldn't talk. However, I have a different strategy," Amir said, pulling out a handgun. He grabbed Grace, who didn't resist, and lifted her up, aiming his pistol at her head.

"Did you know that the river outside feeds the entire valley? It's the only source of water for them. That well," he said, gesturing towards the well in the corner, "leads to the river." He pulled a vial out of his pocket and held it over the well.

"You make the choice. Tell me everything I want to know, and I will spare the valley and your friend."

"Never. The United States military doesn't negotiate with terrorists," Luke growled out at Amir.

"Fine. New choice. Your friend or the valley?" He stated grinning at Luke. At this point Grace made her move. She snapped her head back, and caught Amir in the nose. Then she stomped down on his foot, when he squeezed the trigger twice. Two bullets flew from his gun into the base of her skull. She was dead before she hit the ground. And Luke snapped.

"NOO!" he screamed, his voice cracking. Amir stepped back shakily, reeling from the blow to his nose.

"Your friend made her final wish. The valley it is, then." Amir held the vial up again, and then Luke rammed into him. The glass vial smashed between Luke and the ground, and the chemical covered the front of his shirt, before dissolving into his skin. Luke got onto his knees and crawled over to Amir, who was still on the ground trying to regain his breath.

"You're never hurting anyone again," Luke promised. Suddenly the two guards outside the cell came in. Luke snatched up Amir's pistol and shot them both, one in the neck and the other in the heart. They both collapsed. He then reversed his grip on the pistol and began to beat Amir's face in. Over and over he hit him, even long after he was dead. The blood covered his face and his shirt, dripped down his arms, and was coating his hands. He finally stopped, and got off of Amir's body. He went over and sat by Grace's body, which still was slightly warm.

For the longest time he just sat, and stared at her body. Then he started to cry, and the tears ran down his body, carrying blood with them and streaking his face, giving him a demonic appearance. He looked at her cross necklace around his neck, and his vision began to turn red. He stood up and left the cell and entered the hallway. As soon as he exited, he ran into another guard standing near a door at the end of the cell. He snapped the guard's neck and smashed him through the door, sending it flying off his hinges.

Luke Morrison killed over forty more people that night, but nobody left the warehouse alive. Not really, anyways. He learned an important lesson soon after. You can't outrun the past. Sooner or later the ghosts catch up, and you have to face them all. The people you failed, the things you did, the things you didn't do, the moments you wish you could have back, all of it, it all comes back to haunt you.


	2. Chapter 2

**++++++ I gotta say, I'm having a hell of a good time co-writing this with Stormrunner74.**

 **I hope you enjoy.**

 **I do not own ++++++**

 **Chapter Two**

 _"Hello fellow truth seekers, this is your queen blogger, Bekka James here, from the RawTruth. Today's podcast is coming from the streets of National City as I'm looking to chat to former Navy SEAL, Commander Luke Morrison. Now in case you don't know, SEAL is an acronym for Sea, Air and Land. Our topic of discussion for today is his former partner, one Lieutenant Commander Grace Lund. Grace Lund was the victim of a so called military exercise gone wrong but this queen blogger feels like there is far more to this story that is being told. So we find ourselves at a bar frequented by construction workers where I've tracked Luke on his cellphone to asks the questions that must be answered. Questions that no one else will ask."_

A petite blonde woman, whom could very well be mistaken for a teenage girl, turned her phone around so that the camera was no longer focused on her but a building in front of her. Well-no not a building but a bar.

The bar, in question, was a hole in the wall. An out of the way kind of bar that was frequented by construction workers at the end of their shifts.

Taking a deep breath, Bekka walked into the building behind some other construction workers. Standing there inside the bar, Bekka did nothing more than to stand out in amongst the plethora of construction workers. She was wearing black rimmed glasses, a pair of bright yellow Converse with purple leggings underneath a black skirt that had white splashed on it as well as a sky blue shirt underneath a kind of waistcoat with fishnet fingerless gloves that were holding the phone, her waist length blonde hair was purple from midway down her back.

Piercing blue eyes scanned the bar, ignoring the looks and whispers she was getting from the patrons around the bar. A small sound escaped her mouth that sounded like an expression of triumphant success.

There was a lone figure at the bar sitting away from everyone else. He had short black hair and his face was in desperate need of a shave. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and tan cargo pants. A black leather jacket was slung over the back of his chair. Strangely, he wore a necklace with a wooden cross attached to it. A bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass sat on the counter in front of him. He was focusing so intently on the glass that he was considerably unaware of the little viper standing behind him, willing and utterly ready to strike.

She walked over and sat down beside him, putting her phone away but still recording from the fake glasses that she wore. "Mr Morris, Bekka James here from the RawTruth, I was wondering if you would be able to answer a few questions regarding the death of your colleague Grace Lund?"

And there it was.

His body tensed up the moment the name escaped her. His hand hovered over the top of the glass for just a split second before he swallowed the liquid inside. "Who the hell are you?"

"Bekka James from the RawTruth," she repeated. "I'd like to talk to you about Grace Lund. I'm sure you remember her? You grew up together so I'm sure you do remember her."

"What in gods name happened to your hair?" He looked the odd girl up and down and took another shot of whisky. "Looks like you had an accident with the paint pot at preschool. And you look young enough to attend preschool."

Bekka's face stayed blank as she cleared her throat a little. "Two bullets were fired at point blank range into the base of her skull, and traces of a biological agent were found in her bloodstream, and that adds up to be a training exercise gone wrong, how exactly?" she asked, eyebrow arched in question. "Her autopsy report coincidentally was filed the same time as those of Lieutenants Matt Hansen and Jacob Green."

"Go away, kid."

"Go away like the government tried making this go away?" she scrutinized. "I've Lund's autopsy report analysed by a friend and this does not have all the makings of a exercise gone wrong. What can you tell me about Amir? An expert in biological and chemical terrorism who disappeared around the same time Lund died?"

"Her name was Grace, not Lund. Go away and leave me alone."

"Why? People deserve to know the truth, good or both know she didn't die in a training exercise." Bekka sat back and fixed her glasses. "I know it wasn't a training exercise and so do my viewers."

"All five of them?"

"Try over a million in the US alone," she answered confidently. "But I'll play ball. Tell me about Grace."

"Seth, put this on my tab," Luke said, holding up the bottle of Jack Daniels.

"You going home? Need me to call a cab?" the bartender asked, walking over to him.

"Nope. I'm walking," Luke slurred out, standing up clumsily and putting his jacket on. "Well, I'm going with you." Seth got out from behind the counter. "Okay, listen up you lot. I have errands to run, so Cate is in charge. Anybody who causes problems, they answer to me," Seth yelled to the whole bar. There was a collection of yes's from the group of workers, so Seth helped Luke out of the bar, and started walking home. As they walked out, Bekka started following at a safe distance. The walk to Luke's house was pretty uneventful, except for Luke tripping and falling on his face a few times, until the end. Two guys stepped out of an alley with knifes. One guy, who looked Hispanic, held out a bag.

Bekka hovered in the background, utterly amused at the situation.

"Hey, _hombre_ , money in the bag, now," he said gesturing at the bag with his knife. Luke did nothing of the sort, and instead held up his bottle of whiskey.

"Cheers," he called out, before taking a gigantic hispanic guy got impatient and walked towards Luke, holding his knife up. Immediately Luke pounced, smashing the bottle against the hispanic guy's head, knocking him out cold. Luke snatched up his knife and held it up, the look on his face one of pure rage, contrary to the look of sad drunkenness that had been on him all the way home. The other guy, who was wearing a mask, took one look at Luke and ran.

"That's a damn waste of whiskey," he said, throwing the broken bottle away. Luke then walked inside the building that they were standing in front of, and Seth walked in with him. Bekka then pulled out her phone and took a few snaps, the layout of her newest page already set out.

She suddenly felt a hand reach out and grab her ankle. Bekka screamed as the Hispanic guy pulled himself up using her skirt.

"Give me the wallet _chica_ ," he slurred. "Or I'll take it. That and something else."

Bekka raised her eyebrow and proceeded to swiftly kick him in the nuts. There wasn't much in the world that Alanna taught her but how to incapacitate a guy was one of them. Reaching into her purse, Bekka pulled out a small can of mace and sprayed him directly in the eyes. "Stupid asshole," she snapped using her other freehand to take a photo of his face. That was going on the website. Then she turned the camera on her phone around and aimed it at her face.

 _"Hello fellow truth seekers, this is your queen blogger, Bekka James here, from the RawTruth. So that was unpleasant. I just got out of a talk with former Navy SEAL Commander Luke Morrison about his former partner. He was very drunk, yet he wouldn't talk to me. Because of that, I don't think he will talk to me sober, either. I think I will have to annoy him to the point that he explodes and gives us information. So, this is important, truth seekers, I am going to need your help. His address is apartment 208, 27181 3rd Avenue. Send him what you want. Our job is to get him to tell us what happened. It's our job to get the truth so that the government knows this is not okay. Goodnight, truth seekers."_

Bekka put her phone down. Across the street, Seth was walking back out of the building. Bekka started walking back to her house, formulating a plan on how to get Luke into telling her. Suddenly in the distance, behind her, the Hispanic guy, who seemed to have terrible luck, spoke up.

"Hey, _hombre_ , give me your wallet." Bekka heard a distant thud, and he was silent, for the third time. Bekka walked away, smirking. There were three things Bekka had to do when she got home-well four. Actually, five. Feed the cat, upload the podcast, write her article, find out what drink Luke likes after his morning run in the hopes of buttering him up, and play Halo. Bribes pretty much always worked for her, so she saw no reason why they wouldn't help with Luke.

 **Alcohol Abuse: Can the Government help our tragic heroes?**

Hello fellow truth seekers, this is your queen blogger Bekka James here to talk to you today about our returning soldiers. Today I had the displeasure of meeting with former Navy SEAL, Luke Morrison ( **click here for podcast** ).

From what I understand about the former commander's background, he had a fairly average life with average problems. Morrison joined the military right out of high school and swiftly made his way through the ranks. Today I found Luke in a bar, a small hole in the wall that looks way overdue for a health inspection. He was surrounded by men and women all sitting in groups whilst he sat alone-could it be that, whilst yes, he shares a common lifestyle with these men and women, does Luke not have access to the proper VA services available for soldiers?

This year's budget is a staggering $182.3 billion for Veteran's Affairs. This includes $78.7 billion in discretionary resources and $103.6 billion in mandatory funding. Our discretionary budget request represents an increase of $3.6 billion, or 4.9 percent, over last year's budget. The VA's Advance Appropriations request for discretionary Medical Care is $66.4 billion.

During my teenage years I was fond of the First Person Shooter game Halo and it always got to me that despite the sacrifices Spartan 117 made, the UNSC was happy and willinging to throw him to the wolves each and every time.

(Okay not just in my teenage years)

With the above budget, surely we should have bigger and better resources available for our returning heroes? Or are they just expendable assets?

Like the toaster that is no longer functioning properly but can still be of use, the United States government uses its men and women before casting them aside not caring what happens to them afterwards.

Returning soldiers can be subjected to:

PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

MST (Military Sexual Trauma)

A further variety of mental health issues

If you know of a soldier who has returned home from serving overseas let them know that it's okay to seek out help.

Until next time, my loyal truthers.

xxx Bekka

Click **here** for information regarding Luke Morrison

Click **here** for this year's budget report into Veterans Affairs

Click **here** for copies of Grace Lunds autopsy report

Click **here** to link in with my Halo multiplayer (this is just for fun) player ID **hummingbird_127**


	3. Chapter 3

**++++++ Good morning/afternoon/evening peeps!**

 **MonsterSlut here with the awesome Stormrunner74 and your next update.**

 **Got some time?**

 **Pop on over and have a look at Learning to Fly on Stormrunner74's page.**

 **I hope you enjoy.**

 **I do not own ++++++**

 **Chapter Three**

Luke woke up covered in drool and with a massive headache. His adorable, but wimpy, German Shepherd puppy, Ajax, was lying on his chest. Luke groaned and rolled over, dumping Ajax on the bed, but suddenly a bang from upstairs made him jump out of bed, fully awake, despite the massive head ache he was suffering. Ajax whimpered and fled under the bed. The bang had come from his upstairs neighbors, the Carters. They were always arguing, fighting, knocking things over, and generally irritating the whole building.

Luke grabbed one of his black combat boots from beside his bed and tossed it up and down in his hand, testing the weight. Suddenly, another crash came from upstairs, followed by muffled yelling that Luke couldn't quite make out. He hurled the boot at the ceiling. The yelling immediately ceased.

Luke couldn't remember much from last night after he started drinking. He remembered a pair of muggers right outside the apartment building, as well as a very annoying reporter with a blog. Bella Jones from the RealTruth conspiracy theory blog, he thought it was. He walked over to his desk, and pulled out the chair, before sitting down and looking up the RealTruth conspiracy theory blog.

The first thing he learned, is that it was the RawTruth by Bekka James. The second thing he learned is that when she pestered him last night, she had filmed it for a podcast, and asked her viewers for help _annoying_ him for information on- on...Grace. The blog was full of things like crop circles, superheroes, urban legends, government cover-ups like Grace's death and the Kennedy Assassination theory, as well as cold cases with impossible factors, like the Carter Orchard Farm murders where two unnamed people were killed, one was torn in half, and the other's neck was snapped.

Luke glanced at his alarm clock. It read 4:02 AM. There's still time for his run. He got up and walked over to his dresser. He slipped out of his sweatpants and t-shirt, and threw on a pair of shorts as well as a Navy t-shirt. He put food and water in Ajax's bowls as he walked out the door of his apartment. He laced up a pair of tennis shoes in the elevator, and walked out the main door of the lobby. As soon as he was on the sidewalk, he took off. The early morning fog was still hanging over the city a little bit, and at this hour, the city was silent. This was Luke's favorite time of day. At this time he could almost forget- No, don't think about that. Never try to think about that.

Luke ran down the street, his headache still at the back of his mind. Around the two mile mark, his head began pounding, but he pushed through the pain and increased his pace. Around the four mile mark his legs started to scream in pain, but he kept going. At the five mile mark he stopped, right outside Noonan's. Noonan's was the coffee shop that sold the most amazing sticky buns Luke could ever find. And it was exactly five miles from his home. Every day he ran there in the morning to pick up two sticky buns. Then he would run up 74th Street, and take a left on 2nd Avenue, before taking a left on 97th Street, and running back to 3rd Avenue, taking a right until he got to his apartment building.

Luke walked into Noonan's and smiled, as the delicious smell of coffee and pastries rolled over him. Despite the fact that he hated coffee, he loved the smell of it, and Noonan's coffee, like their sticky buns, was the best, at least according to Seth. Seth was addicted to coffee. So was Gra- No, don't think about that. Never try to think about that.

An African American woman, named Patricia, though she insisted on being called Patty, who had worked at Noonan's as long as Luke could remember, greeted him.

"Morning, Luke. The usual?" she questioned him.

"Yep. Thanks, Patty," he replied with a smile.

"How do you eat those every day, and not gain weight? I swear, you and Kara, you two have to be aliens to do that," she said, smiling.

"Patty, I run five miles here, and six miles back, just for a pair of sticky buns. I lose weight doing that. I'm sure that Kara, whoever she is, does the same," he told her.

"No, she doesn't. She walks every day."

Luke shrugged. "Thanks, Patty. Be round tomorrow at the same time."

She waved him off and went to serve another customer.

Luke headed out the door, bumping into a blonde woman wearing glasses and simple clothes, with her hair in a ponytail, on her way in. He apologised to her and she just glared at him. Muttering under his breath, Luke made sure his sticky buns were safe before starting the six mile run back to his apartment building. On the way back, he couldn't help but let his mind wander back to Bekka James and her confrontational questions at the bar last night. How on earth did she get a hold of the autopsy reports on not one but all three of his squad mates? The girl looked like she could barely function without a keeper let alone get a hold of private military files.

Realistically it had been a long time since Gra-since his friends had been killed by a crazed madman but it still felt like yesterday he'd lost them.

Luke forced his mind away from any and all thoughts of his odd stalker and her topic of discussion. In his head he listed the things he had to do at work today. Lord Technologies was finally rebuilding a building they'd lost five years ago to a fire. He could remember the quarantine techs going in and out of the building for over a year before finally the building was knocked down. The company Luke worked for had won the contract to build some new skyscraper.

He came around the corner in time to see the preschooler, Bekka James waiting outside his apartment, sitting on the top of a car with a bottle of blue gatorade in her lap and a smile on her face. She was wearing a blue dress with yellow and pink hummingbirds with a yellow pair of leggings and pink ballet flats. In Luke's opinion, it was the single most ridiculous outfit he'd ever seen someone wear in his life. And to top it all off, her hair was in the Princess Leia bun-style and she was wearing hummingbird earrings with a matching necklace.

"Do you dress like that just to get attention?" Luke asked her. "Or you not weird enough?"

Bekka raised an eyebrow. "I understand blue gatorade is your favourite?"

Luke's eyebrow twitched. "Excuse me?"

"I was looking back into some of your old high school records." She slid off the car and hit the ground like a cat. "Found an email begging Grace to get some blue gatorade for you after practice, since you were dying of thirst, and that it was your favorite. Your doorman also said that you have one after your run every morning."

It usually took a lot to annoy Luke, but knowing this little girl was digging around his life like that really pissed him off. "Excuse me?"

"Care to answer some questions over some gatorade?"

"What gives you the right?" Luke snapped. "Digging into people's private lives like they were your own private playground? What gives you the right to advertise private, emotional factors all over your crappy website?"

"The people have a right to know," Bekka replied. "Private black ops missions sanctioned by the government where American's die shouldn't be swept under the rug. There was a strange chemical in Grace's blood and your blood test results just conveniently went missing." Luke turned around and entered the main lobby, and walked over to his mailbox. Normally it had only a few bills and ads, but today it was crammed full of letters. He yanked them all out and flipped through them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped at her.

"Doing what?" she replied, innocently.

"You know perfectly damn well, what. I read some of your blog this morning, including a podcast, where you asked your little preschool stalker friends to send me mail. I suppose these _aren't_ your followers, huh?" Luke grabbed a few letters, and threw them on the ground, "Your friend, your friend, your friend, your friend, another, friend, your friend. Oh, what's this. _Another_ one of your friends. Oh yeah, remember that article about how I don't get veteran benefits? Guess what this is?" He held up a letter from the United States Department of Veteran's Affairs. Inside, he knew, there was a check for $836.13.

"A veteran's check," Bekka replied dully.

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, triumphantly. He then turned and walked towards the elevator. Bekka followed, close on his heels.

"My article was simply about the fact that with all the money they still can't seem to help the masses of homeless or mentally disturbed soldiers on the streets or in their own homes. Guess a grunt like you can't read properly, huh?" Bekka sneered at him.

Luke was finding it harder and harder not to get into some kind of fight with her. As a SEAL he had a rule against hitting women, but she wasn't making it easy.

"So, gatorade and answers?" Bekka asked, examining her nails as the door opened.

"No!" Luke exploded, before exiting the elevator and storming towards his apartment.

"Oh come on. Please?" Bekka asked.

"Would you just buzz off?" He pushed open the door to his apartment and went to close it, but Bekka managed to lodge her foot in the doorway and braced her hands on the door. She was strong for someone so tiny, but Luke managed to get her foot out of the doorway. "I'm warning you, I'll call the police."

Bekka raised an eyebrow as he slammed his door shut in her face. After a moment, he opened the door and snatched the gatorade from Bekka.

"Thanks," he growled out, before he slammed the door in her face again. Luke walked into his bedroom and changed into his work clothes. He threw on olive green cargo pants, a grey t-shirt, his steel toed work boots, and a National City Sharks cap. He pat Ajax on the head and walked back towards the door. However, his hand hovered over the doorknob, as his instincts screamed not too. He looked through the peephole, and there was Bekka, waiting for him. He stepped away from the door and back into the kitchen, formulating a plan. He walked over to the kitchen window, opened it, and climbed onto the fire escape.

From there he climbed down the fire escape, and walked around the building, and across the street to the garage for the apartment building he lived in. He walked over to his motorcycle. A Harley Davidson Street 750. He had saved up since high school to buy a nice motorcycle, and last year he had gotten enough. He climbed on and started the engine. It roared to life, and he pulled out of the garage. He weaved through traffic, heading uptown towards the site of the new tower. The foundation had already been laid, and the beginnings of the structure were being set. Now Luke and some of his co-workers had to start welding on support beams.

Luke arrived and parked his bike. He walked over to a check-in list and signed in, before reporting to Greg Johnson, his boss and friend.

"Hey Luke," Greg said.

"Hey. What's my job?" Luke asked.

"Before you and the guys start welding, I need you guys to inspect the concrete for flaws. I need to know if it's ready to support weight," Greg said pointing at him, and three other guys.

 **-XXX-**

In the basement, Luke was inspecting the giant slabs of concrete that lined the sides, when he saw something out of place. A small, green, marble sized piece of glass-like material was lodged in the concrete. He pulled out a chisel and hit the concrete around it. It gave way after a little coaxing, and the green glass fell out, and into Luke's waiting palm. What had looked like a marble was actually a sliver about two inches long of a clear green gem. It was almost like an emerald. Luke gasped as the material began to heat up in his palm, before it exploded into a fine green dust, blowing Luke back twenty feet, and onto the ground.

He landed funny on his right arm, and he hit his head. His vision swam, and he looked up at the sky, lying on his back. Greg came into view, and Luke passed out, his eyes rolling into his head.

 **-XXX-**

Luke came to inside a hospital bed. His right forearm was bandaged, and his left middle finger had something reading his pulse. A man dressed in scrubs was standing at the end of his bed.

The middle-aged man, a nurse Luke realized, standing at the foot of the bed gasped a little as the muscular man moved. "Mr. Morrison?" He took a few steps backwards and opened the door, "Doctor Kratz! Mr. Morrison is awake."

Doctor Kratz was certainly not what Luke expected when the door opened a second time. As he struggled to sit up, a woman about four feet tall with thick rimmed glasses came over to him. "Put that head back on that pillow Mr. Morrison or I'll strap you to that bloody bed."

"She's not kidding," the nurse muttered. Luke sighed and laid back down.

"Enough out of you, Garth," Doctor Kratz warned him, a smile on her face. "Care to tell me why you decided to go toe-to-toe with a pile of cinder blocks?"

"What?" Luke frowned. He rubbed his head and glanced at the serious, little woman.

She pursed her lips. "Whatever happened, you're a very lucky man." She took the clipboard off the end of his bed and flipped a few pages over. "I've had construction workers come in with broken bones, ruptured organs, missing limbs and they bring you in with a broken right forearm that's not actually broken in the first place."

"What?" Luke asked, now utterly confused.

"Those bloody idiots they call 'paramedics' reported you having a broken arm. It's just badly bruised."

She shook her head, muttering under her breath. "Garth here is going to take your blood pressure and vitals just to be on the safe side than you can go home. Make sure you take care of you insurance up the front."

The good doctor placed the clipboard back at the foot of the bed and turned to leave. When she opened the door, Luke could see Bekka sitting in the corridor, her fingers practically flying across the surface of an iPad. "Miss. James!"

Luke smirked a little as Bekka practically jumped out of the seat she was sitting in. He and Garth looked at each other just as the door closed and the doctor started shouting at the blogger.

"I've warned you, you little viper! Get out! Now! So help me god I'll put my foot so far up your annoying little ass you'll need a doctor."

"Okay, jeez."

The doctor opened the door and winked at Luke. "Take the service entrance out. Tell 'em Francine sent you."

"Thanks," Luke said, standing up.

His clothes were in a bag on a chair underneath the window, Luke grabbed them and made his way to the bathroom, muttering under his breath. He slipped into his clothes and came out. The bandages on his arm prevented his jacket from fitting, so Luke elected to leave it off.

"We'll send you the paperwork," Garth told him. "That blonde's being hanging out since you got here. Figure you don't need her on your ass."

"Thank you."

"Stalker ex-girlfriend?"

Luke snorted. "Good God no."

"Hey man, we've all been there before." He pat Luke on the shoulder. "Good luck."

Luke stuck his head out the door. There was no Bekka in sight so he left the room to mingle in with the small crowds in the hall. On the roof Luke spied a sign that showed him to the service entrance. A couple of orderlies looked at him strangely like he wasn't supposed to be there.

"Think you took a wrong turn, buddy."

"Uh-Francine sent me?"

One of the orderlies elbowed another. "Frankie sent him. Down the hall, third right, second left and the elevator is at the end of the hall. Pin's 7119."

Luke nodded his thanks. He moved passed them and made his way down the hall, following the instructions as he went. Only when the afternoon sun hit his face, did Luke let a sigh of relief escape him. All he wanted to do was go home, sit with Ajax and have a couple of drinks.


	4. Author's Note - (WILL BE REMOVED)

Good morning/afternoon/evening,

This is a PSA.

I am in the process of moving house at the moment and because my internet provider is utterly hopeless (BLOODY TELSTRA) we're having issue's getting our internet service connected.

It looks like I'll be without internet until at least the 8th of April but I'm predicting it will be longer because...well...hello-hopeless.

I'm going to try and continue updating on my computer and when once I get my internet back, I'll be able to upload what I've got stored.

Thank you in advanced for you patience.

Love,

MonsterSlut

PS This will be removed when I start up again.


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